


Bespoke Oregon

by dromayr



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe, Does borrow several key elements, Drug Use, End of the World, F/F, Fleshing out the time travel even more, Modified powers, Other, Romance, Sexual Content, Similar but Different, Slow Burn, The universe: What if I just make people figure stuff out on their own?, Think of it like Skyrim but with 750 mods installed, Will not follow game events exactly, impending doom, traumatic events
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2020-08-20
Packaged: 2021-03-07 03:00:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26009911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dromayr/pseuds/dromayr
Summary: If you give a sculptor clay, you cannot stop them from shaping it, you can only disapprove of what they have made, though they will continue to create.If you give a painter a canvas, you cannot stop him from painting it, you can only disapprove of his depictions of you, though he will continue to create.And if you give a teenager world-changing superpowers, you cannot stop her from using them, you can only disapprove of her choices, and she will continue to escape.
Relationships: Maxine "Max" Caulfield/Victoria Chase, Rachel Amber/Chloe Price
Comments: 3
Kudos: 9





	Bespoke Oregon

**Author's Note:**

> be·spoke  
> /bəˈspōk/  
> Adjective  
> Made for a particular customer or user.  
> "a bespoke suit"  
> Making or selling bespoke goods, especially clothing.  
> "bespoke tailors"

The kitschy clapboard shack squatted awkwardly on the pier between a modern chain drugstore and a souvenir shop with even more _oomph_ to their kitsch. Vibrant orange shutters jutted awkwardly over the top edge of ancient, rotted windows as they were mounted half a foot higher than they normally should be. Salt ringed the glass and frosted the fishing nets hastily nailed over each frame, with decades of sea spray deposit. Only the cartoon whale dancing with a pirate chicken on a half-lit sign marked the change from an old storehouse to an eatery. In the autumn night, at the witching hour, the Land an' Sea sat as the only beacon of light on a dark, abandoned boardwalk, aside from the occasional faint glow from the beam of the lighthouse just a couple miles up the shore. The parking lot buzzed with activity, a drunken teenage revelry spilling over from the nearby private high school with fervor. With no shortage of party favors but a shortage of food, hunger brought the herd to the grazing grounds - the oldest restaurant in Arcadia Bay, slinging fried and boiled fare in an improbable mashup of seafood, Italian-American, and Indian cuisine.

The party's organizer perched on the hood of her new Phantom peering over the bacchanalia with equal levels of pride and disdain. Pride at her and her group's flexibility in the face of (mild) adversity, and disdain with the greasy and chewy masala dosa. A haze of intoxication clouded her eyes and brain, oddly subduing her usual level of cockiness. She bobbed along half-heartedly to a newly-released pop song playing a few cars over, with a solo cup in one hand and a straw in the other. A dancing boy, who she foggily remembered as Hayden, sauntered over with a CD case and finely ground powder tucked into neat little lines. She chugged the contents of the cup and dove with vigor into the powder, hastily sucking a line into each nostril and then tilting her head back, snorting loudly to clear her throat. The children did so openly, with no fear of retribution or legal action. Who would rebuke them? The anemic police force in the teens' pockets? The frail old owner? No, nobody opposed the rich, not in Arcadia Bay. To Victoria, the restaurant embodied stubborn, post-industrialist blue collar capitalism and resulting stagnation. Instead of being smart, and investing in properties or stock, Guiles had dumped every cent he had into the barely-floating establishment in the vain hopes of keeping up with the ever-changing community. The Indian-inspired dishes came from an ill-advised ploy to get the youth through the doors, suggested by his perky college-girl daughter. Victoria didn't even know what the vapid little blonde studied but she strongly doubted it was anything to do with Engineering.

"Are these from your doggy bag or Nate's?" She slurred. "Nate's." Hayden replied. "He said he had to go for a little while, he'd be back in thirty." "He'd better hope he doesn't wreck that little shoe box of his. That would be hard for even him to get out of." Victoria sniffled and brushed some invisible dirt off of her skirt. "Do me a favor and find me something I can drink that isn't literal battery acid. Something I fucking brought, anything." "Yes ma'am!" He saluted and chuckled, before swaggering off and returning with a bottle of Brut Gold, one of the cheaper bottles that she had provided. Just as quick as he'd appeared, Hayden disappeared, presumably to go flirt with the girls over by the cooler in Zachary's trunk. Remembering one of her ongoing 'missions' to retain her status, Victoria quickly shot a picture of herself with a smoldering look and sent it to Zach with a little blue heart emoji. In the distance and in glimpses through the crowd, she saw him sneak to the side of his car and fiddle with his phone, grinning after only a few seconds. He typed frantically and her phone dinged and flashed with "Wanna go around to the back of this place? ;)" Suppressing her disgust, she kept her face neutral as she replied "Can't. Gotta watch Court and Tay. They get wild when they're drunk." She lied. It was usually Taylor dragging her own drunk self back to the dorms most nights, refusing to let Victoria drive if they had been off-campus. "Aw, but doesn't that mean you shouldn't stop them? That would be so fun to watch." Victoria snorted and pocketed her phone without opening the message - it was easier to pretend she hadn't seen it that way.

That's one item off the to-do list.

She looked over her crowd of minions once again and took a hearty swig of the wine before gagging at it's half-stale taste, from sitting open all night, and dumped it off to the side of her car. There was easily 50-60 kids, all reveling in their freedom. Freedom only available through her and Nate's wallets, of course. All were engrossed in their own little worlds of festivity, chatting, drinking, smoking and snorting to their hearts' content. Nathan was still absent, of course, but he was rarely late to return, and when he was it was never more than 10 minutes. Another Prescott trait, surely. Suddenly, Victoria felt uneasy, but it was hardly a foreign feeling. At every party, she eventually grew tired of social interaction and became prickly and anxious. Usually she would break up the party, as Nate often tired before her, but tonight she knew what he was picking up, and that he would be wired for several hours and willing to watch over the festivities. Unwilling to let Taylor baby her and uncaring enough to stop the other teens and make sure they wrapped up the party at the end of the night, she quietly slipped off the hood and unlocked the car. Everyone was distracted enough and just spread out enough that she was able to slide into the driver's seat and back out with few noticing, and nobody who cared enough to stop her was of those few. Wobbly and on competing ends of intoxication, she focused all of her energy on obeying every road law and staying straight. Her parents would kill her if she were to get caught driving under the influence. Deciding to avoid main roads, she followed the beach to the edge of the woods and chose an old service road that ran up towards the school. The pavement was ancient, but sturdy, with weed overgrowth at the edges being the main blemishes. With a speed limit of fifty miles-per-hour, it was faster than driving through town but felt disgustingly slow for the size of the road.

Tiring of the quiet after only a few minutes, Victoria pulled out her phone and manually shuffled through her playlist. Song after song flipped by as her indecision strengthened, she was unsure what _genre_ she even wanted, when she spotted a blur out of the corner of her eye, standing at the side of the road more than a hundred yards up. She got a little closer, and could make out a mop of brown hair and a teal tee standing next to a deer crossing sign, exposed to the chilly October air. She didn't recognize the girl at first, but as the distance closed, she could have sworn it was-

"Maxine?!" As soon as Victoria reached a hundred feet’s distance from the person, a mass of tawny fur darted in front of her car, and she had only enough milliseconds to stare into the wide brown eyes of the doe at the moment of impact. She felt the rear of her sedan lift slightly as the front crumpled and glass sprayed from the antlers piercing the windscreen. Forced to a stop, the wrecked car squealed to rest. Victoria, thoroughly shaken but amazingly alive, pulled her face out of the airbag and assessed her situation. With the shattered sheet of windshield still in place, it was impossible to see through, and she hastily unbuckled her seat belt. She attempted to force the door open, but the twisted fender made it very difficult, forcing her to kick the door open with both feet. She staggered as she uprighted herself, feeling very much like a human martini, and gaped in shock. The frame was fine, but the hood was crumpled in and both fenders were mangled as a result. The radiator had folded in as well, barely visible through the hood's gaps and actively dripping the last dredges of coolant onto the ground. But strangely, there was no deer. She searched wildly, swinging her head back and forth between the front and back of the car and still, no sign of the deer appeared. There wasn't even fur in the grille. Even stranger, there was no other obstacle in front of her car! As hard as she searched, she spotted nothing. Panicking and confused, Victoria gripped her hair and struggled to think of an explanation. The deer must have just run off, she reasoned, and wasn't hurt too badly. But, she also realized she was driving at forty-five, only slightly below the speed limit, and should have killed the poor thing just judging by the damage to her car. "What the _fuck_ just happened?!" she shouted. She genuinely had no idea.

But wait, someone else had witnessed it; Maxine. Victoria had no idea why the mousy girl was in the woods, let alone at nearly four in the morning, but she was raised to never look a gift horse in the mouth. Caulfield could tell her what she saw, and despite their mutual hatred, Victoria knew the photographer was too kind-hearted to run off after such a severe accident. In fact, she was surprised that she hadn't already been approached, with the smaller girl running up to check on her. She straightened her clothes and hair and did her best to look presentable, considering the scratches adorning her face and specks of glass still glittering in her platinum bob, and hide her drunkenness. After all, it would be stupid if she got caught because Lamefield ratted her out. She wasn't worried about the police, of course, she could buy her way out within an hour, but her parents would be sorely disappointed, which would result in harsh punishment. But as hard as Victoria looked, she was nowhere to be found.

"Caulfield!" She yelled, turning slowly to look in all directions. "Maxine! Get your ass out here! I won't hurt you, bitch, just..." She paused, unwilling to admit what she needed, but she had no choice. "I need help!" And no response came. Absolutely bewildered and angry, Victoria stomped over to the shoulder in the last spot she saw Max and oddly enough, there was no trace to be found, not even shoe prints in the sand. Okay, she was high, and drunk, and maybe imagined things, but still! How would she have imagined the deer? The damage was irrefutable. The only potential explanation was that it had run off, stunned at first but alive. "Good, fuck that thing. I hope it dies slowly for that stunt." she thought. Sighing, she pulled out her cell again and called her roadside assistance, telling them she hit a deer and it caused some damage but it didn’t seem like she had hurt it as it was long gone. That wasn't entirely true of course, but she couldn't care less about getting the damned thing a vet and certainly didn't want a report filed. She asked them to send a tow truck and to take it to the nearest dealer, all the way up in Seattle. Well aware of the price, she talked over the agent and told them to just charge the damn card on file and that she would head home, leaving the keys in the car. No, she didn't want to file a report or claim, she would simply pay for the repairs. No, she wouldn't wait for the truck, she was tired and shaken up. She provided the GPS coordinates from her phone. How were they supposed to use them? Just plug them into the freaking GPS! It wasn't that hard. Hefty bill paid and tow truck on the way, she disconnected, cursed again, and called Nathan for a ride. Victoria didn't want to admit to the accident, of course, as she would never live it down with him, but he was the only person she trusted with her vulnerability.

The phone rang, and rang, and rang, and finally a tinny voice called out " _Hey, this is Nate. Don't leave me a message, send me a text and I'll figure out if it's worth replying to._ " "Nate, it's me. I need you to come pick me up. I hit a fucking deer, and the stupid fucking thing ran off. I'll text you my location. Bye." Victoria sent the same coordinates to Nate and waited. Peculiarly, no response came, even as the tow truck pulled up. She tried to call again, and flipped her hand in a ' _shoo_ ' motion at the driver when he tried to approach her. Unperturbed, he shouted over the idling diesel engine. "Do you have anything in the car, miss?" She tried again. "Miss! Do you have anything in the car?" Seething, she spat back "No! Just load the damn thing. I'm tired and upset, just leave me alone." The driver simply shrugged and started hooking up the winch, but paused to scratch his head at the lack of fur or blood. He approached her again. "Are you sure you hit a deer? It looks like you hit a barrier or something." "Are you stupid? I know what I fucking hit! Just go do your job." More bristly than with her last insults, the man set about getting away from the hostile teen as soon as possible, finding her obnoxious. Victoria shrieked in frustration, nearly throwing her phone, as Nathan's voicemail played again. He probably had the damn ringer off, partying it up without her. The driver looked over his shoulder, shook his head, and kept anchoring his load at the wheels.

Buzz wearing off and anger boiling, she started stomping her way down the road back towards Blackwell. By the time she reached the edge of the campus grounds, the sun had just started cresting in the morning twilight. With minimal time as she saw a figure approach, Victoria found herself hiding in the bushes from Dana, who was striding down the sidewalk on her morning run. and she had to swallow down her comments, deciding not to call attention to herself by calling out Ward's apparent holier-than-thou demeanor and what Victoria called self-conscious faux athleticism. Feeling for all intents and purposes like a burglar, the blonde inched along the outside perimeter, hiding behind bushes and walls. The whole scenario was like a child sneaking back after curfew, and wholly ridiculous, but it it was a lot better than being spotted coming back at five A.M., dirty and somewhat bloody, and facing the idiotic questions that would surely follow.

In range of the girls' dorms, Victoria surveyed the area before dashing for the doors the moment she saw the path was clear. She bee-lined to her room, thankful for the weekend quiet. She was able to slip in unnoticed and shut her door. Breathing a sigh of relief, she slipped off her cardigan and skirt and leaned back against her door, then slid down it to sit on the floor for a moment and breathe, her head in her hands. She was exhausted, but needed a shower before she would even consider climbing into bed. Careful to maintain her constructed image, she changed into a nightgown and grabbed a clean pair of jeans and yet another cardigan, slinging them over her arm and grabbing her shower caddy. Victoria refused to let anyone think she slept in her clothes from the party, even if it was a waste of a clean set of pajamas. She used a clean rag and some makeup remover to wipe her face and arms down, removing the sheen of sweat and specks of sanguine that clung to any visible part of her body. She winced when she reached her hairline and pushed a shard into her scalp, and then again when combing her hair. Thankfully, it didn't bleed and she assessed herself in the mirror. Although far from perfect and messier than she liked, her appearance wouldn't draw any attention - she was known to have partied the night before. Steeling herself, she entered the hall just in time for a very odd sight, especially given last night's events. It was Maxine! And she was bleeding - badly. She had her hand clasped over her nose and vibrant red liquid dribbled down her chin and shirt as she bolted through her door, leaving it partially open. The only two souls stirring in the dorm hesitated and stared at each other for the briefest of moments, blue eyes boring into green in a way eerily reminiscent of the deer, but tinged with panic. As quickly as it had happened, Max was gone, tearing down the hall towards the restroom. That was just great. Victoria still had to shower, and she would be right next to the hipster as she sprayed blood all over herself. With equal parts of disgust and surprising concern, she followed at a leisurely pace.

She opened the door to a brilliant sight. Maxine was standing at the sink, head tilted back with a sink full of spotted paper towels and several clamped over her face. She had her eyes squeezed shut, looking faintly pale, with her free hand gripping the sink and tapping her fingers as if waiting for the flow to finish. She coughed lightly into the bundle, sounding congested, and sighed. The blonde started to open her mouth, and shut it, weighing the benefits of insulting her. On one hand, pointing out that the hipster couldn't even stop a nosebleed right and asking how she ever survived to early adulthood would likely destroy her confidence, but the smaller girl was in genuine distress, and had shown kindness to Victoria even in the face of her absolute bitchiness just earlier that season, complimenting her style while the taller girl was blocking her entrance and being openly hostile.

She was the malevolent ruler-in-chief, but she wasn't evil. Finally deciding which was the the lesser of two evils, and figuring she might as well try and get some good karma after the prior night's events, she sighed as well and went to work. She grabbed Maxine by the base of her skull, scaring the hell out of the girl, and pushed her head forward and face-down. "Hey! What are you-" She grabbed the wad of paper towels and squeezed her bleeding nose, pinching it shut. "What the _fuck_ Victoria-" "Shut up, Attila. You'll either drown yourself, make yourself sick, or both. Keep your head forward.” She kept firm pressure as Max weakly pulled at Victoria's wrist, and gave up. "There's no way you'll keep enough pressure on it after losing that much blood. Just stand still and shut up. What the fuck did you even do, anyway?" Maxine started to answer, but Victoria hushed her. "Maybe consider I can't hear you through the towels? Wait until we're done here, Jesus." And wait they did, staring at each other through the mirror, or maybe glaring. Max's eyes were narrow with either sleep or mistrust, and Victoria's discreetly searched Max's. She kept a neutral visage, not betraying the coiled energy in her gut. This was her biggest rival, one of the best photographers in the academy who was so _fucking unaware_ of it that it was infuriating, and she was within a foot of the Queen of Blackwell, with one manicured hand on her neck, resting there but not needed, while the other clutched her aching nose. Dried blood caked Max's knuckles, like she had been in a fight. and it stirred a low burn in Victoria that even she didn't quite recognize. Choking it down, she focused once more on observation. Max's half-lidded eyes seemed to slowly perk up, going from simply staring to scouring as well. It was as if she thought she could see Victoria's motives in the mirror. It was a stand-off, both staring each other down.

When the flow finally stopped, Victoria carefully peeled the mass of bloody tissue off of Max's face and threw it away, doing her best to not gag. Dried blood was smeared all over the bottom half of Max's face and speckled all over her chest, buried under her fingernails, and contaminating half the trash can. "Jesus fucking Christ, Maxine." "Max, Victoria, it's Max. And what are you doing?" Victoria did her best to look offended, though she expected the suspicion. "I'm fucking helping you, duh. Try and keep up, Caulfield."

"No, Victoria, what the _fuck._ " She asked, staring up at her helper. It was like a cornered dog suddenly lashing out, and this was Max's warning growl. With her entire face hardened, she sounded oddly low, and it was indeterminable to Victoria if she was baffled or livid. And that was wild, given Victoria grew up reading people. It scared her.

Victoria Fucking Chase was scared for the second time in twenty-four hours, and she hated it, so she lashed out.

"What the fuck do you mean? God forbid I show you some fucking kindness for once, you twee bitch." She retorted, crossing her arms and sneering. Max was pushing her out of her comfort zone, and that's just what she got for being kind, she supposed. Deep down that was her fear from the start, some attempt at benevolence would be met with anger. Not that she didn't deserve it... No, no thoughts of that. Max's demeanor changed again, steely calm, as she repeated herself. "What are you doing, Victoria? This is new, and very out of character. You have to consider that this is pretty damn weird from where I'm standing." Victoria realized she had a point. That was wildly out of character, but she had been making an effort to not be such a shitty person all the time. She had even deleted the video after Church Girls Gone Wild had tried to jump off the roof, with the horrible realization of the role she had played. Some stranger, unidentified, had drugged the girl at a Vortex Club party. Not only did an awful violation happen under Victoria's nose, she weaponized it. It made her feel awful in a way she never had before, and she never wanted to feel that way again.

Victoria took a deep breath and carefully chose her words. "I figured I'd do something nice. Some fucked up shit happened last night, okay? I figured it was a sign from the fucking universe, or something." She kept her guard up, despising that she even conceded to Maxine, of all people. And why did she mention last night? What was wrong with her? She was going to shower, and hopefully pretend it never happened, until a tiny but incredibly firm hand gripped her wrist. Ready to yell, she whirled around and glared at Max, until withering at the look on her face. It was like Maxine had seen a ghost, and not Victoria's other car. Her eyes were wide, and her face even paler. "Did someone hurt you?" she asked, growling it like she had before. A whole new side to Max that Victoria would _never_ have guessed existed was showing, based on the limited glimpses in tone, and it threw Victoria completely off. She realized the implications of the question and swallowed bile.

Poor, weird but caring Maxine had just asked her, the Queen Bitch, if someone had hurt her. Probably assumed she was molested like she had let happen to..."Fuck! No, Max! No, nobody hurt me. Just, let me shower, okay?" She softened her tone with a coil of regret still in her gut, and eased Max's hand off of herself, but not without cringing at the red marks left behind. "And for fuck's sake, take one yourself. I don't want to smell a kiln when I walk by your door later." Max exhaled through her nose. "Yeah, I look like shit. Thanks, Victoria." and then she fucking _smiled_. "Yeah, yeah, just don't tell anyone, or I'll let you bleed out if this happens again." "This happens all the time, and I haven't bled out yet." Wait, what? "What do you mean, 'this happens all the time?'" She asked the hipster.

Max sniffled a bit, and hesitated before replying. "I don't know all the details, just that I have weird blood vessels in my nose. No more coke parties for me, huh?" she quipped, making Victoria laugh. "No, probably not a good idea." The taller girl stepped into the shower, closed the curtain, and disrobed. Ordinarily she could care less about showing off her body, she was confident and she strongly doubted anyone was stupid enough to critique her, but she didn't think it would be best to strip in front of Caulfield. Either she would have a little gay heart attack, or her nose would lose another pint from the stress and blood pressure elevation. She tossed her clothes over the curtain in a pile to grab later, as the dry cleaner would address any wrinkles, and turned the water on as hot as she could stand before rinsing through her hair. She let the heat cascade over her, washing away some of her tenseness and starting to debride her minor wounds. She ran her fingers through meticulously with her head held back, trying to lose as many shards of glass and flecks of blood as possible before lathering. She heard the shower next to her kick on, because of course Maxine would be slow to disrobe, and as the conditioner was being worked through her own hair she heard a faint "Fuck."

"Oh, what now?" Victoria thought, before catching herself. The girl had run to the bathroom as soon as possible, without anything but the clothes she was wearing, and must not have had any soap. Or clothes. "Oh god damn it." The blonde thought before throwing both the shampoo and conditioner over the partition. She heard one hit the tile, and the other made a smacking noise. "Ow!" and, following a moment of silence she heard a faint "Thank you." "Don't mention it. Literally, don't, please." and then they both laughed. Victoria finished first, the picture of efficiency, and simply slipped out naked. They were still the only two in the bathroom, but then again, most of the dorm had been drunk last night and it was a Saturday. Max's clothes were tucked in a little ball, carefully hiding the blood stains. She heard a faint humming coming from the stall, and found herself leaning in slightly and realizing it was quiet singing - soft, wispy singing. Ignoring it and the odd feeling it spurned again, she got dressed and snatched up all of the dirty clothes, including Max's, and was able to return before Max had finished up with the plainest things she owned, an undecorated Armani tee and another pair of jeans. Victoria might have been a solid foot taller, but it seemed the hipster often rolled her jeans anyway. Nobody would recognize the donor, surely. Just as quietly, she exited the bathroom and woke up.

Wait, woke up? Victoria blinked away the blurriness of hungover sleep. She was crumpled against her door at an awful angle, back cramped into a U-shape. She rolled off to the side and groaned, gripping her head and lower back simultaneously. Both throbbed in time with her heartbeat, forcing her to drag herself upright before she got stuck that way. She felt glass still littered in her hair, confirming the bathroom visit never happened. In the waking world, at least. Victoria searched for something to wear, eventually deciding on wearing the same things she saw in her dream. Must have been prophetic, right? Besides, designer jeans and price tags worth more than most students’ net worth deserved to be flaunted. She slung her towel over her shoulder, grabbed her caddy, and opened the door to Max, standing in the hallway and gaping like a deer in the headlights, with a hand clasped over her nose and blood all down her shirt.

”What the _fuck?_ ”

**Author's Note:**

> I've decided to challenge myself to write more frequently and actually build upon a work instead of forgetting about it. My goal is to write at least one new chapter per month, and I'm unsure how it will turn out in length nor quality. I admit, I don't have a lot planned aside from the premise, and I will write this as I develop the story. I look forward to sharing this with all of you, and I hope your feedback will help me grow as a writer, as do I hope you can enjoy this little world I thought up. of course, I do not own any rights to the characters or setting of the contents herein - those rights lie with Dontnod and Square Enix. This is a derivative work, and any resemblance to individuals living or deceased is coincidental.


End file.
